


Rebirth of One

by GoldDreamer



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mild Blood, Minor Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Lives, Pooka Jack Frost (Guardians of Childhood), Rating May Change, Rebirth, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, Tall Tales, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 06:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18544570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldDreamer/pseuds/GoldDreamer
Summary: Rebirths, something uncommon but not unheard of. Souls who are meant to fulfill a purpose- yet somehow don't in their lifetime, prompting a 'do over' or a Rebirth. Souls who are rebirthed take on near identical traits to the previous body with obvious exceptions. Incidents in the previous bodies life can cause traits to shift, so as to try and bring the soul closer to its goal.The typical goal of the rebirth is to find its perfect mate, but those rebirthed typically don't realize this.In this story- we will follow the Rebirth's of the one and only Jack Frost and their relationships through the ages with one Bunnymund.





	Rebirth of One

Legends of the Old Pookan race are not stories of kindness and sunshine. They are stories of warped realities based on little fact, passed from mouth to ear and down the line of Doe to Kit and depicting the worst of the Pookan race. The legends are something widely used to scare unruly kits into going to bed- for if they don't, bad things will surely happen to the race. 

‘These legends are not really our past my little kits, but take caution- for we never want to make it come true!’ Does would say, fighting the fear away just enough to make sure they went right to bed. 

However, be warned, my dear reader. For what if I told you these so-called ‘legends of old’ were actually quite real? That these little stories Does tell to their Kit’s were once the Pookan way of life? The carnage and destruction? The ferality of the lagomorphic creatures we know of? Would you believe me, or would you reject me? 

Should you believe me, continue on and find out more about their long forgotten history. Should you not, well. Find a happier story, for you surely will not find it here for a very long time.

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..  
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Our story begins with one particular Buck- the leader of his small, isolated clan. Blood trailing behind as he bound across ice and snow whilst his prey followed him with fierce ambition- the buck was taking a familiar diversion path that he's used all too often these last few months. A low growl emitted from his throat as he dove behind an ice-covered rock, putting a paw over his mouth to keep any further noises from escaping as he hid. 

A trap was set up just inches away from him, his prey not all that far behind. Just a few more seconds and- SNAP! The Buck smirked, turning to come out from behind the rock and stare at the prey he's caught in their deadly trap. 

“Finally,” He sighed out, staring at the already dead corpse with a look of relief. “Food will be good for the clan for at least two sun falls.” Did he need to speak out loud? No, of course not. Did he do so anyway? Yea he did, it always seemed to help him keep a bit of a clearer head when hunting for the clan. Speaking of- he had to get that corpse back to the clan before it froze. The tundra isn't good for keeping things warm after all. 

A jolt of pain pulled him out of his thoughts and reminded the Buck that he did indeed have at least one wound to take care of before the journey home, so the Buck looked down at himself to see just where the pain and blood were coming from. A long gash ran down the side of his left thigh proved to be what caused it, along with the pain came the large drippy patch of stained fur. Well, obviously that is where the wound was under his thick coat. 

“Hmph, stupid prey. They never learn do they?” He huffed out his question, shaking his head before icing over the wound all too easily. This will hold until he can get back to the clan with food. He can get medical attention once he knows his clan will be taken care of. Being the leader meant he had to put the clan first, he can be replaced but the clan can’t.

The Buck stood up to full height and stretched for a moment, tired blue eyes staring at the dead corpse before him. A sigh left his muzzle before he let his thoughts come to a halt, allowing his body to run on autopilot while he freed the dead prey from his trap. He has done this too many times to even need to think about what he was doing. After freeing the corpse and resetting the trap- he hefted the prey up and began the trek home. 

Thinking on the prey, he noted just how heavy it was compared to many of the other’s he normally caught. It was significantly larger as well, could it have been an elder of its kind? Likely, it was rare enough to come across one this large. He shrugged slightly as he continued on, oh what did it matter anyway? The thing was meant to feed his clan now, doesn't matter what it was before it died. 

For the next two hours, the Buck let his mind be completely empty, simply allowing himself to be free of thought while walking the safe route back to the cave system his clan claimed as home. Though he may not be actively listening to his surroundings, never assume that the leader of a clan would simply allow himself to be vulnerable like that. His ears were stiff with a thin lining of ice- always keeping them at full attention even when he was relaxed. One could never be too careful in the tundra.

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..  
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The Buck smiled as he walked deep into the cave system he called home, another thirty minutes of walking and he will be able to relax fully. Exhaustion was written deep in the clan leaders face, carrying a four hundred or more pound beast for nearly three hours was clearly energy consuming. Yet he did it with a bright smile upon his muzzle, he was doing it for the clan and he would get a well-deserved break after tonight. So he had no qualms about carrying the beast alone.

Finally, he spotted the first guards of his small clan, his eyes lighting up as they hurried over to help him carry the beast into the heart of the ‘colony’. There was barely a hundred pooka in the clan, could it really be called a colony? He mentally shrugged, seeing kits darting past and even staring at the beast he had managed to catch. The awe on their faces made his chest swell with pride. 

He always felt the happiest when he made sure his family was taken care of. The Arctic Tundra, Frost Clan were always his number one priority. He wouldn't have it any other way. Being the leader was dangerous of course, but it came with the satisfaction of knowing that you truly are able to help many of the Pookas in your clan. 

The way kits eye’s light up with awe and surprise when you come from a hunt, the way Does smile so brightly knowing their kits will grow up healthy. The way other Bucks help contribute and thank you for the service you provide, knowing that as the leader you truly don't have to risk your life like this. To the leader though, that's what makes it worthwhile.

He let out a breath when the beast was lowered to the ground, another buck helping him to sit down for a moment to breath. He listened closely to the soft cracking of the thin ice holding his ears in place, the large appendages moving to a more relaxed position. Finally home, finally able to relax. 

“Blizzard Hailstone Frost!” A voice yelled from across the large center cavern, oh there she was. His sister. He wondered when he was going to receive her wrath. 

“Blizzard Crystal Frost!” He shouted back, smirking as the light brown pooka grew more irritated with his retort. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your undying wrath, my dear sister?” That cause a few snickers from the other pookas around them- especially when his sister hit him upside the head.

“Idiot! Going out without a companion, with Bunnymund trying to find you again! Are you seriously that stupid Hail?” She questioned, Hailstone watching as she put her hands on her hips. She obviously wasn't impressed by the half-ton animal he dragged home.

“Aw sis, come on- You know Bunnymund can't possibly come around here this close to the last season change. Our coats are growing thicker for the Dark Month, He's barely got a measly summer coat.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes before gesturing to the large animal on the floor.

“Besides! I got that thing there! If hunting keeps as it is, we will be fine for the Dark Month this year!” He laughed, a bright smile on his muzzle. It didn't get to stay there long, a jolt of pain had him sucking in a breath through his teeth. Prompting his sister to immediately worry and begin checking him over.

“You absolute dunce- going out without even simple medical supplies. You are incredibly lucky you have that power of yours! Or else I would have beat your dying corpse for going out the way you did!” Hailstone couldn't help but laugh out, it earned him another hit to the back of the head but he didn't care much. The image of his sister beating his dead body up for being idiotic was incredibly funny.

“Alright, alright, just help me out yea? It's just the one wound but I'm not exactly sure how much blood I lost and a nap sounds incredible right now.” He ran his paw through his fur and showed off the long gash to his sister. It ran about half the length of his thigh, but it was about an inch and a half deep.

He got a sigh in response as his sister looked at it, gesturing for him to follow her. Hailstone couldn't help but let out a dramatic sigh as he pushed himself up to follow after his sister. The annoyed glare he got from doing so made him smile brightly, oh how that look was worth the pain he was going to be in soon enough. 

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Sure enough not even ten minutes later he had his hind paw iced to the floor so heavily he knew he wouldn't be able to pull it up yet. Getting stitched up was the absolute worst part of getting healed. The second being the cleaning solution that burns worse than frostbite! 

“Just a few more Brother, then we can put the numbing balm on it and you can take a nap.” All Hailstone could do is nod slightly, biting down heavily on the leather in his maw. It was all he could do to make sure he didn't scream in pain.

Oh, the balm couldn't have come fast enough when it finally did touch his skin he released the leather and the ice holding him down so quickly. A sigh of relief falling from his lips as he leaned his head back and relaxed in the chair. Fuck that felt amazing already. Sometimes he couldn't understand just why stitching was needed. Or you know, why numbing balm wasn't allowed to put on beforehand. 

“Alright brother, let's get you to your nest. Donner, can you carry him to it?” With an affirmative nod, Crystal’s nursing assistant gathered up her brother carefully. The female leading them through the tunnels to where Hailstone’s private quarters lay. Gently the leader was tucked into the nest after his wound was wrapped up gently.

“Sleep well brother, I will bring you dinner later. You did well today.” She spoke gently, kissing the six-pronged snowflake on his forehead. Gently running her paw pads over the frost swirls that created a 'crown' illusion along the sides. Quietly her and Donner slipped out of the room, leaving Hailstone to rest until dinner.


End file.
